WRECKED: CHOSEN FEW MC - BOOK TWO: OUTLAW BIKER/ALPHA ROMANCE by Nessa Connor

could reply, Carly grinned and magically shifted back to a little girl. “Teacher likes Wrench,” she said, her voice singsong. The she giggled and darted from the room.
    Melanie stared after the precocious child. Her thoughts turned to a lonely, widowed biker who might pass on an easy lay just to take her for a ride—an innocent ride down the highway. And what did it say about her that she’d gone off with him happily, gone riding with a biker who was an ex convict. It all needed thought. A lot of thought.
    The second period was an administrative one for Melanie—it was a chance for her to do some of her paperwork while the class studied art with Mr. Difle. Sometimes she’d have a student or two in the room with her who were supposed to study silently for having made some infraction of minor rules, but today she was alone, staring at her paperwork and trying to shake off a strange fantasy. She saw herself on the back of Greg’s motorcycle riding somewhere—some distant place that would take a long, long time to get to. She clung to him, and her mind summoned up all the things she’d felt on Saturday.
    Because she was behind him, her arms wrapped tight around him and her thighs pressed to the vibrating motorcycle, she couldn’t see his face. Speech was almost impossible, with their words torn away by the wind, although if she put her lips to his ear she could tell him simple things. They rode along and the entire universe became one of sensation, part of it very sexual—she had to admit that. She’d come home with her panties soaking wet.
    That was how it had been on Saturday—an overloading of her senses. That’s why she couldn’t honestly say if she liked Greg. Other than when they ate, he was more a sensation than a man; he was a warm, masculine body she clung to as he took her to his world.
    For a woman who had spent much of her life thinking things out, studying, dealing with life through her intellect, it was as strange as if she’d spent a day on some alien planet where communication was tactile. Her feelings were certainly tactile.
    She wanted him. More than she’d ever wanted anything; her desire was for this alien of hers to take her to bed, to undress her, to caress her and to take her, make her feel his overpowering strength. The fantasy was soft and beautiful, but her desire was almost violent. Greg was not like the civilized men she had dated and dismissed. He was a touch of a barbarian—controlled, and charming on the surface. He had shown her what it was like to turn off her thoughts and feel; now what she wanted was to let him know she craved for him to unleash the barbarian inside him.
    So, the uncomfortable truth was that she wanted the man to take her. The idea itself didn’t frighten her but the knowledge that she wanted him, and wanted him so much, that being around him made her heart pound, aroused her, scared her to death.
    What was he doing to her?
    * * *
    The rest of her day went by in a blur. Knowing her lesson plan by heart, the fact that there weren’t any unusual events and the kids behaved reasonably well, made it a tolerable swirl of the daily routine. Still, when the bell rang for the last period, and the cheer went up from the students as they grabbed up their things and raced out into the schoolyard, she was relieved. She looked forward to wrapping things up then going home to a quiet glass of wine and time to focus on her own thoughts and emotions.
    Greg waved at her as he pulled up and Carly, followed by other children, went over to meet him. Melanie waved back and gave him a smile that she hoped didn’t betray her confusion. She needed to talk with him, but not here. Not in front of the kids. And certainly not until she had some idea of what she wanted that was a bit more thought out than dreaming of him throwing her down on a bed somewhere and ravishing her.
    Just thinking about the idea made beads of sweat appear on her forehead.
    When he roared off, with Carly,